


Crossings

by IdleLeaves



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdleLeaves/pseuds/IdleLeaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fourth Age, Rivendell. Elladan, Haldir, and a quiet conversation on a frosty morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Minuial_Nuwing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minuial_Nuwing/gifts).



> Written for Minuial Nuwing for MSV 2014. Your prompts definitely sparked the whole thing, but didn't quite figure as prominently as I meant them to. I hope you enjoy this anyhow.

The morning dawned clear and cold. Elladan woke at first light, long before the sun had risen high enough to melt the frost that had settled overnight. The fire he'd stoked before sleep was down to ash and embers, and a chill had crept out from the shadowed corners of the room.

 _Haldir's rooms_ , he registered after a moment. It had been some time – too long, perhaps – since they'd spent the night in his bed rather than in Elladan's, though there was no longer a mountain range and a fortnight's journey between them. Elladan rose with care; Haldir stirred, but did not wake. He located his clothing, cloak, and boots, and a short time later stepped out of the halls and onto a wide stone path, one of many linking the valley's outlying cottages to its main halls. 

He had the path to himself, at this hour, and its early-morning stillness was disrupted only by his own footfalls and the quiet, persistent rush of the Bruinen. Elladan thought of Erestor, months ago, speaking of the quiet that had fallen over the valley since Elrond's departure in a voice tinged with nostalgia, or regret. Elladan supposed his frequent travels had left him less resistant to change than some.

His boots crunched over dry, fallen leaves, their former scarlet and gold faded to oxblood and ochre. The mountains beyond were already crusted with snow, but in the depths of the valley late autumn still lingered on the cusp of winter. Caradhras had been near-treacherous, some weeks ago, when Elladan and his brother had taken the pass on their return from a time in Gondor, and he had remained aware, throughout, that if the mountain proved untraversable then there would be no refuge for them in Lothlórien until the warmer seasons. The Golden Wood remained, but her people – save for a few clinging to shadows of the past – had, little by little, moved on.

A thick tangle of willow branches curved across his path; underneath, a lazy circle of yellow autumn chrysanthemums fortunate enough to have been sheltered from the frost. Elladan clipped a handful as cleanly as possible, wincing when a root tore free. He retraced his steps to the corridor that led to Haldir's rooms, in a narrow wing of the halls that spread across the hills like ivy, overlooking a cluster of cottages amongst white birches – cottages that had become home, now, to some of those who had followed Celeborn from Lothlórien to Imladris seven summers ago.

Elladan knocked, this time, before entering, and found Haldir awake and with a rekindled fire, book – a recent gift from Elladan – in hand. He wasted no time in shedding cloak and boots and settling beside Haldir, close enough that the flames were not all that warmed him. "Thought your rooms could use some colour," he said, of the flowers he was still holding.

Haldir touched the bright cuff of Elladan's tunic, blue embroidered in silver and gold, then slid his fingers down to clasp Elladan's free hand. "There's colour enough, with you here," he said, but set his book aside to take the chrysanthemums.

There was some truth to Elladan's words; in some ways, Haldir had yet to settle in the valley. The amount of time they spent in Elladan's rooms was excuse enough to leave his own sparse and utilitarian, yet a subtle feeling of transition lingered around his unadorned walls and locked travelling trunk, something Elladan had sensed but never voiced.

"The frost is deep this morning," he said. "First snow can't be far off."

"I expect not," said Haldir. "Though, right now, I'm just grateful you made it back. Taking chances with the pass this time of year..." He trailed off with a slight shake of his head.

"Not wise, I know. Blame Elrohir for that. He couldn't be persuaded to leave earlier, no matter the risk. I suppose I can't blame him," he continued, softly. "He doesn't want to regret... not visiting her more, after--" He stopped on a sigh, and smiled to dissipate the drifting shadow. "You might like it, " he said. "The city, I mean. It's grown, out across the plains, and it's still more stone than leaf, but at the same time it's greener than its ever been, at least in my memory. I said to Elrohir that I'd have liked you to join us, next time, but I don't expect to travel again for some years, and you'll be --" He stopped, again, more abruptly than before.

"I'll be what?" Haldir asked.

Elladan exhaled a short, sharp breath between his teeth. "I only meant--" he started, but could find no words that were both avoidant and truthful, and instead chose only the latter. Plainly, he said, "I think I expect that by the next time I ride east you'll have already travelled in the opposite direction."

The logs in the fire shifted as they burned, and live sparks drifted onto the hearth; something akin to guilt flickered in Haldir's eyes. After a long moment, he admitted, "It had crossed my mind."

Elladan leaned in for a long, slow kiss. "I think it's more than crossed your mind," he said, afterward, his voice free of accusation or malice.

Haldir didn't deny it, but neither did he reply. He turned toward the fire without unclasping their hands, and neither spoke for a long while.

It was Haldir who eventually broke the silence. "It was home," he said. "If I travelled, no matter how long the journey, Lórien was always there waiting – unchanged, for the most part – when I returned. I thought this – pull, as it were, was a reaction to that loss. To being uprooted like that. I expected it to retreat here, given time. I expected it to be temporary."

"But it's not, is it," said Elladan.

"No." Haldir shifted to bring them face-to-face. "But it's not overwhelming, either. Not yet."

"Well," said Elladan, brightly, "It makes a change, at least, from me running off all the time."

That, at least, drew a smile from Haldir. Elladan was right; he and his brother had passed through Lothlórien in their travels – their missions – more times than he could count. It had been a constant and a solace, no matter the season. He'd seen gentle springs; lazy summers; crisp, golden autumns; and had waited out more than one harsh winter, safe deep in the forest where the ice and snow of the mountains did not reach.

It had been the same season – autumn, creeping toward winter – when Elladan had arrived to escort Arwen home to Imladris, half an Age ago, when his long-time friendship with Haldir – helped along, no doubt, by a bottle of particularly potent wine – had shifted into something both of them should, in retrospect, have seen coming. Elladan made no promises when he left, nor during his arrivals and departures in all the following years. Neither did; they were unnecessary.

"It doesn't unsettle you at all," said Haldir, with a touch of bewilderment.

"Should it?" asked Elladan. "We're both rather used to separations, aren't we?"

"True, but--" Haldir began, and Elladan cut him off.

"But nothing," Elladan said. "I've always known where to find you, haven't I?" He slid his arms around Haldir's waist. "It's just another time apart. And," he said, "when I arrive on those shores to join you I won't be leaving again."

The warmth in Haldir's eyes had nothing to do with firelight, and was all the response Elladan needed. The flames could stand to be stoked but he was quite comfortable where he was, held close, and he allowed himself to linger until the clocks in the main hall struck the hour.

"Should we talk about it?" he asked, as they rose.

"Yes. Later," Haldir said with a nod. "Soon," he amended, this time with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Elleth for listening to my near-constant flailing and for knowing how to ask all the right questions to keep my brain on track. I appreciate it beyond words.


End file.
